Keeping quiet
by Jinxgirl
Summary: Sometimes it's just not possible. Pezberry, circa season 5.


"Shhh," Santana whispered, her lips so close to Rachel's ear that the other girl shuddered, feeling her warm breath against the skin of her neck, just beneath. And then her lips were slowly pressing against the skin of the back of Rachel's ear, traveling down, and as she lightly nipped at its lobe, Rachel sucked in a sharp breath, barely suppressing the whimper that arose from her throat and threatened to break forth.

"S-Santana-" she gasped, feeling her knees grow weak, the muscles of her legs loose and shaky, barely supporting her, and it crossed her scattered thoughts that she was lucky that Santana's strong arm was wound about her waist, holding her up, supporting her from simply dropping to the floor. But with this small bit of security also came the additional danger of Santana's leg, positioned in between Rachel's, her upper thigh wedged against Rachel's groin, Santana's chest and stomach so closely pressed into Rachel's that Rachel could feel the taut muscles of her stomach, the quick heaving of her chest with her shallow breaths, and she was certain that Santana too could feel Rachel's heart beating at a speed to rival a hummingbird's against her own.

All together it was enough to make Rachel's head spin, and every time that Santana increased the intensity of their physical contact, every time she felt Santana's warm skin gradually transmit more and more heat into her own, until her face was red and flushed more with lust and near desperation than any lingering embarrassment, Rachel found herself more and more unable to even think of, let alone speak coherent words. She should probably stop Santana. She should probably push her away, or at least keep her from kissing her, keep her from holding her so tightly. And she should definitely keep Santana's hands from traveling lower and lower over her stomach and further and further up her legs and thigh…she should definitely stop Santana's hand from creeping out of sight beneath her skirt…

But any time she even tried to convince herself of this, let alone Santana, Santana managed to find another way to completely distract her, and Rachel couldn't remember for long exactly why it was she was protesting.

But when Rachel accidentally leaned backward, almost tripping over the back pulley of one of the stage's curtains, a brief light broke through in her mind, and she tried with weak gestures and words to turn her face away, to bat at Rachel's hand on her leg, even as Santana evaded her, nimble fingers slowly stroking over the inner skin of Rachel's thigh.

"S-Santana…Santana, th-they might come BACK here-"

"Shhhh," Santana's words were a smoky murmur into her mouth, as she kissed her with a slow, almost languid pressure that quickly became more insistent, as her tongue began a rhythmic stroking against Rachel's own. Santana heard a noise not unlike a squeak escape her even in the midst of the kiss, and when Santana's fingers brushed lightly over the fabric of Rachel's panties, the squeak became a high-pitched squawk muffled only by Santana's lips quickly smashed into hers, stopping Rachel's cry almost as soon as it started.

Involuntarily Rachel squirmed, effectively trapping Santana's hand between her thigh as the hand awkwardly splayed against Santana's shoulder blades became a claw, tightly squeezing a handful of Santana's hair until the other girl too cried out, mostly in pain, but she thought she heard a note of pleasure as well. Even before Santana's finger fingered the edge of the fabric's opening, then slowly slipped inside, Rachel had felt the material grow damp in response to her touch, and she fought her impulse to cry out again, a rush of embarrassment at her own reaction only slightly tempering her excitement.

Onstage they could hear several of the other former Glee students moving around, laughing and talking and teasing each other and some of the newer, younger students that now made up New Directions. With the trip to Nationals about to take place the next day, everyone was excited and nervous, and it seemed that all anyone could talk about or think about was the dances, the songs, the routines, and of course, who was predicted to screw up what.

Once Rachel and Santana had been part of that group, and they probably more than most of the others combined had been among the most vocal with their opinions, corrections, and concerns, or in Rachel's case, outright obsessions. But now neither felt that they quite belonged; both had lost so much associated with Lima, Ohio that they could never imagine truly feeling home there again, and with each Glee reunion of sorts, their feelings of distance and sadness, even when surrounded by those they loved, made it seem as though the past and what they had all once shared had never been real at all. The feeling that they had never spoke of together, but nevertheless both understand and saw in each other without need for words, only caused them to stick more closely to each other, and it was during times like this, where they had become almost invisible to the other's eyes, that they would take the opportunity to slip apart from them to have time apart.

Always it was Santana who initiated the first touch, the first kiss, and always it was Santana who kept it going, who managed to convince, or at least adequately distract Rachel from the possibility of the others suspecting, of the others witnessing. It was not that they were ashamed of whatever it was they were or were becoming to each other, or that they thought they might be judged, though the shocked expressions of Mercedes or Sam might be worth seeing. It was more that they weren't ready, that it didn't yet seem right to show to others what they had not yet fully figured out for themselves, and so as of now they had said nothing- and they were pretty sure Kurt had kept his mouth shut too.

But with Santana pushing the envelope at every opportunity, and Rachel's general inability to control the volume when she pushed her to a certain point…it probably wouldn't be long before they were found out.

"Santana," Rachel choked out, even as her breathing accelerated to the point of near hyperventilation, as her eyes bulged and sweat began to bead at her throat and forehead, and she moaned aloud when Santana's tongue flicked over the hollow between her collarbones, licking it off. "S-Santana, oh GOD…they-they're gonna HEAR us!"

"Then…cierra la boca, princesa," was Santana's reply, and although Rachel didn't understand what she was saying specifically, she understood the gist of it when the girl's lips immediately after smothered any words that Rachel might have been able to utter further. She kissed her until Rachel felt almost as though she were drowning in the other girl, until she was gasping for breath and leaning her full weight into Santana, no longer even attempting to keep herself apart or pretend she had any semblance of control. And when Santana's fingers slipped within her folds, lightly but with deliberate intent and ease placing pressure where she knew Rachel would like most, the shudder of pleasure that ran through the girl's spine was almost a spasm, and a scream escaped her that even Santana's lips couldn't entirely contain.

"Hey, what happened? Did someone get hurt?" they heard someone call back, and then there were footsteps coming towards them, curtains being pushed aside, and it was with still-shaking limbs that Rachel barely managed to let Santana detach from her, to stand apart, and even then Rachel was forced to lean against a wall to remain on her feet at all.

"It's nothing," Santana replied as Mike Chang, Tina, and Mercedes came into view, looking them over with curiosity in some cases, concern in others. Even in her still flustered state Rachel was amazed at how quickly she could slide back on a mask of boredom and contemptuous amusement, how her posture appeared completely at ease, even with her hand , behind her back, still slicked with Rachel's juices, her hair tousled from Rachel's grasp. "Berry here thought she saw a ladybug. Apparently those are bad luck on a stage or something lame like that."

And even with her heart still racing, her skirt wrinkled, and what she suspected was a trace of Santana's lipstick still smeared over her mouth, Rachel managed to nod agreement, but she didn't even try to speak. The only noise she could have made then was one final moan, and there were no lips within her reach to block it off.


End file.
